Some freckles come outta effin no where. Some seep into the skin over time and one gets acquainted slowly with this brown little spec. Freckles, the friends of the arm hairs and skin covering the body. Here, freckles are welcome sometimes unnoticed. Sitting on a pretty little hand. Or on a broken heart covering the chest of a living breathing human. Freckles withhold the sun, rain, the moon light, and the other fucking things floating in the air. Freckles stay, sometimes they grow. Sometimes they grow a hair when they get a personality lol. Now you're like what the fuck is this person typing. I'm typing my feelings in the generation of creation through freckles. I'm tired of waiting and it's hard to be patient for people who come and go in life. Learning happens in all shapes and forms. Like soaking toes in water, they absorb the water and become pruney. They learn to adjust from this substance they're submerged within. A drive driven by the human body. It's getting harder to be patient. Cue the guitar solo. And the phone call to order Chinese food. Left broken hearted by a pretty freckle. Straight drowned hopes and wishes. Getting tired of waiting. It's getting harder to be patient. Here's some good advice. Don't waste your breathe, He'll burn you dead. Most of you don't know him yet. He is only faithful to himself. And silly dreams made him leave. No time to grieve. He will find something better than what he left behind so he knew it was worth all his pain and hurt. Guitar solo. Spirits have their own minds. They can't be confined. They draw their own lines. It's alright. I'll learn. I'll live and won't have to roll over. Guitar solo. So for those who don't know him yet, he won't care if you ever do. He ain't concerned with you. Silly dreams make him leave. No time to grieve. It's alright. Tell him how it is. All the time. People don't change when you want them to. People don't change. People don't change when you want them to. And I look the wrong way towards a one way street. I do not own this video. The song above is what inspired this blog post. Big time. Hurts to here to truth he ain't concerned with you and your city dreams. No time to grieve.
Spirits have their own minds They can't be confined They draw their own lines It's alright Tell them how it is The truth hurts [Cue the howling wolf]
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
My CallingWriting for artists, as an artist. Va va voom. A new way of reading art news in Chicago // Denver. Thank you, dear ones. Archives
November 2020
Artists UniteRead artist reviews and artist news highlighting the passion of creating and individual, international success stories here.
Categories |